


Gold & Silver Line My Heart

by xXdreameaterXx



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-01
Updated: 2015-02-26
Packaged: 2018-03-10 01:30:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3271769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xXdreameaterXx/pseuds/xXdreameaterXx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the death of her boyfriend Clara Oswald decides that it is time for a change. However when she accidentally ends up in bed with her new professor Doctor John Smith, who has a reputation of sleeping with his students, she might find her life changing a lot more than she would have liked. Twelve/Clara. Professor/Student. AU. Rated E for later chapters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1

**Gold & Silver Line My Heart**

 

**OOO**

Clara had thought going back to university was the right choice even though she was in her late 20s. Other people did it all the time. In fact her classes were swarming with people of all ages, even a few pensioners. She wasn't exactly sure what she would do after getting her degree in sociology but she had only just started and there was still time to figure everything out. What Clara knew for certain was that she couldn't ever go back to teaching.  
It had been exactly one year since her boyfriend and colleague had died in a car accident and after a break she had tried to go back to school but everything about that place had reminded her of him. Clara had realized it might be better to switch schools after she had broken out in tears three days in a row in front of her class but it was no use. She had still expected Danny to knock and stick his head through her classroom door any minute and it just couldn't go on like that. After speaking to her family and even a therapist she had come to the conclusion that a change of careers might be best. 

That was how Clara, now two months into her first semester, found herself attending a class on gender studies. She had gotten the results of her first essay this morning, an A+, the same grade everyone else seemed to have received as well, which was odd. She hadn't exactly given it her best and even the others seemed baffled.  
She turned her attention back to Professor Doctor John Smith who was, as she had learned, an expert on the subject. Yet her mind kept wandering. Today was the anniversary of Danny's death and she would've stayed home, pretending to be sick if Smith's class hadn't been obligatory. She usually loved attending his classes but it seemed as if her professor wasn't having the best of days either. Maybe he had overslept, he certainly looked like it. Hair ruffled, unshaven, his rimmed glasses slightly askew and she could've sworn that he was wearing the same clothes as yesterday. He also seemed very scattered, changing the subject every few minutes, leaving sentences unfinished and half an hour before the time was up he told them to go home.  
Clara gathered her things and started to approach his desk.  
“Uhm, Professor Smith?” she asked carefully.  
He looked at her over the rim of his glasses, confused. It took him quite a while to reply. “You're new. First semester?”  
“Yeah. Listen, about my essay. . .”  
“Explains why you don't know my nickname. Most students just call me _the Doctor_ ,” he gave her a half-hearted smile as he continued to stuff his papers into his briefcase.  
“Oh, okay. I have a question about my essay. Are you sure you've given me the right grade?” Clara held her paper into his direction, her eyebrows raised.  
“Yes, yes, quite sure. Look, can this wait until tomorrow?” the Doctor stood up straight and looked at her.  
Clara felt slightly intimidated by his posture and the tone in his gravelly voice.  
“Yeah, sure,” she replied.  
“Now, if you'll excuse me,” the Doctor grabbed his briefcase and headed out of the room.

 

**OOO**

The library had been Clara's safe haven from the first day on. It was where she could retreat to when she felt close to tears and bury her nose in a book. Only today her haven appeared to be more of a fridge. The heating was out, which wouldn't have bothered her hadn't it been November. After spending several hours freezing despite her warm coat and not getting any work done, she decided it might be better to go home and warm up before she caught a cold.  
As she walked through the streets, shivering in the snow, she passed a small pub in a back road that she hadn't really taken notice of before. A hot cup of tea or coffee would be really nice now, she thought. Clara spun around on her heels and entered the pub, a wave of hot air blowing into her face. She still kept her coat on and approached the bar when she suddenly spotted her professor sitting on one of the bar stools in front of a glass of what looked like strong alcohol. At least she wasn't the only one having a bad day.  
Clara considered leaving or finding a spot in the darkest corner of the pub so he wouldn't notice her but it was too late for that. Professor Doctor Smith, or the Doctor, had already seen her and was now waving at her to come closer. She approached him carefully.  
“Miss. . . Oswald?” he asked uncertainly, his voice even raspier now.  
Clara nodded.  
“Listen, I'm sorry about earlier,” the Doctor said with a slight smile, clutching his drink in both hands, “Your grade is fine. Don't worry about it.”  
She wasn't sure what to reply. Should she thank him for giving her a grade she obviously didn't deserve? Sit down? Leave?  
“In fact, I gave everyone an A+. Couldn't be bothered with grading last night. Take it as a matriculation present.”  
“Uhm, thanks,” Clara said hesitantly. He looked absolutely miserable. Should she ask him if he was okay? Other people's problems always seemed to distract her from her own, “Are you all right?”  
The Doctor looked up from his glass and stared at her for a moment. Then he proceeded to take off his glasses and rub his eyes as if tired.  
“Do you want me to leave?” Clara asked. She wasn't really comfortable in this situation. The Doctor was such a strong presence, it intimidated her.  
“No, no,” he shook his head, “Why don't you sit down?”  
Clara unbuttoned her coat reluctantly and took the seat next to him, praying for a bartender to show up soon and save her from awkwardly sitting at the bar with nothing to hold on to.  
“Do you want something to drink?” the Doctor asked her and she noticed his gaze wander over her figure. She nervously fiddled to close her coat again.  
“Tea would be nice. I'm freezing,” she admitted.  
The Doctor snorted and took a sip of his drink. “Scotch does a better job at warming you up, trust me. It's also very useful if you're having a really, really bad day.”  
“Okay, I'll have one of those then.”  
He waved at the waiter who immediately refilled his glass and also brought one for Clara. She carefully took a sip and made a grimace as the alcohol burned in her throat. But the Doctor was right, it was warming her up instantly.  
“So, what screwed up your day?” he asked after a while.  
Clara shrugged. She didn't really feel like talking about Danny. In fact, she had told no one at the university so far, not even the two friends she had made. She was so sick of their stares, of everyone feeling sorry for her. She thought that maybe if no one knew about Danny and treated her like they would any other person she could get over it and forget.  
“Just the usual,” Clara lied, downing the rest of the scotch, “Just feeling down lately. And you?”  
The Doctor called for the bartender again to refill their glasses and reached inside his briefcase, pulling out yesterday's newspaper. He opened it at the birth announcements and Clara spotted a picture of a pretty, young woman, not much older than herself, holding a tiny newborn.  
“That is my ex-girlfriend Eileen. She left me a year ago because I wanted to get married and have children and she didn't. At least that's what she said,” the Doctor explained, avoiding to look at the picture.  
Clara started to read the article.  
_“We congratulate Eileen Simmons and her husband Mark to the birth or their son Danny.”_  
Danny. The name stung but Clara was determined not to show it. Instead she read the announcement again.  
“Wow, that really sucks,” Clara uttered.  
“Yep. But now I know it wasn't marriage that scared her away or having kids, it was me. I guess I earned it. Somehow,” the Doctor raised his glass to his lips again.  
“Why? What makes you say that?” Clara was honestly curious now.  
“I have . . . a reputation. Of which you wouldn't know because you're new, but. . . I have. I have slept with a female student more than just once.”  
Clara gulped. It really wasn't what she had expected, not of him. He had always seemed so professional during class.  
“I, uhm, I didn't push it. I'm not a creep if that's what you're thinking now,” he threw her a glance to check whether she seemed disgusted or not, “I always waited for them to make the first move. Most just did it because they wanted a better grade. I knew that, but I didn't care. Eileen was different though. I loved her. We had been together for two years when I proposed. A few months later she left me, for _him_ ,” he pointed at the newspaper, “apparently.”  
“I'm sorry to hear that. It's really not a nice thing to do to someone. She could've told you the truth at least,” Clara finished her glass. She wasn't used to this kind of strong liquor and she was starting to feel a little light-headed.  
“I learned my lesson,” the Doctor concluded, “Hands off the students.”  
“Oh, I'm sure not everyone is like your ex. You'll meet someone,” Clara nudged him gently and smiled.  
The Doctor turned his head towards her and a smirk formed on his lips. “You're very kind, Clara Oswald,” he sighed, “But for now I think I'm gonna get drunk, pass out on my bed and be completely hungover in class tomorrow. What do you say, one more drink and I'll stop bothering you with my boring life?”  
Clara knew she should say no. She should decline and demanded a cup of tea instead, but the Doctor was right. The scotch had really warmed her up and the thoughts of Danny seemed further away then ever. And here was her nice professor in desperate need of some company. So she agreed. 

 

**OOO**

 

Clara woke up, her head throbbing with the pain of the worst hangover of her life. She opened her eyes for just a second and closed them again quickly, the light blinding painfully. She dragged the duvet over her head and just wanted to fall back asleep, but something didn't feel quite right. This wasn't her bedding. Hers was fluffy and warm and the one she was wrapped in felt smooth and slightly cooling. Despite the pain she threw away the duvet and opened her eyes. In panic she realized that she wasn't in her bedroom, she wasn't even in her own apartment. She stared around the scarcely furnished, completely unfamiliar room. There was the bed she was lying in, a small closet and a rug. Where was she? Clara frantically searched her brain for an answer, but the previous night was nothing but a huge, black hole. She had gone to her classes the day before, to the library and then to a pub, where she had met. . . oh God.  
She must be in her professor's apartment, or rather loft, by the looks of it, with no recollection of how she had gotten here or what might have happened afterwards. She was afraid to check under the duvet, but she could feel the bedding on her skin and knew she was naked. Clara buried her head in her hands. What had she done?  
She scanned the room for any piece of clothing and luckily found her knickers. She got out of bed and quickly put them on, but the rest of her clothes wasn't here. All she could find was her professor's shirt from last night. With no other choice than to walk around naked, she slipped it on and carefully opened the sliding door to what seemed to be the living room.  
Clara crossed it carefully, trying not to make any noise when she found herself in front of another sliding door. She didn't know what to do so she knocked.  
The Doctor opened the door carefully and she considered herself lucky he was already dressed.  
“Sorry, I didn't know if I should wake you or not. Hope you didn't miss any classes,” he said apologetically and gestured for her to come into the kitchen, “I made coffee, if you want some. Ham and eggs are almost done as well.”  
Clara walked into the room and sank down on the nearest chair. “What time is it?”  
“Almost 10,” he replied, busying himself with rearranging the plates.  
“No,” Clara sighed, sniffing the coffee. The thought of eating or drinking made her stomach turn over.  
“No what?”  
“No, I don't have classes. Yours is the first today,” she said and the horrifying thought crossed her mind that she would have to sit in his class and look at him very soon. She would feel so awkward that the whole world would see what had happened between them last night. Whatever had happened.  
“Doctor,” she began reluctantly, biting her lip, “What exactly happened. . . last night?”  
He turned around to look at her but Clara didn't dare look back. She saw him only out of the corner of her eye. He had obviously been awake for a while, showered, shaved and put on some other clothes, which was convenient. She was wearing his old shirt.  
“You don't remember?” he raised an eyebrow.  
Clara tried to think back again, the coffee somehow rebooting her brain.  
They had been at the pub, drinking scotch and it had only taken her a few glasses until she was drunk. He had offered to walk her home then, passing his flat. It had seemed like a good idea back then to go inside cause neither of them had really felt like walking all the way to her apartment. He had produced a bottle of tequila from his kitchen cupboard, still determined to drown his sorrows. She might have had a shot or two as well, maybe more. Probably more. At least it would explain why she couldn't recall anything after that.  
“I remember the tequila,” Clara confessed.  
“And?”  
“And nothing. Woke up in your bed,” she shrugged, the sudden movement hurting her head again.  
“I'm trying very hard not to take that personally,” the Doctor chuckled.  
“Well, enlighten me. What happened?” Clara demanded although it was obvious.  
The Doctor turned around to switch off the stove and walked over to the other side of the small table, taking a seat.  
“You're right. We had a couple of tequila shots, which was probably a bad idea. I put on some music, we danced.”  
Dancing seemed to ring a bell in Clara's mind. She could recall a bit of that now. It had been some oldie from the 70s and he had twirled her around, their hands and bodies touching each other in ways not really appropriate for a professor and his student.  
“We kissed and then we had sex,” the Doctor concluded, “It's a shame you don't remember, really. It was good.”  
“Oh God,” Clara muttered, hiding her face behind her hands, “Oh God. Oh God, oh God, oh God.”  
“Is everything alright?” the Doctor leaned a little closer, sounding worried.  
“That was stupid. That isn't how it was supposed to be. Two months into university again and I've already slept with one of my professors. This is bad,” she said desperately.  
“Clara, we're both two adults. Sure, it wasn't the wisest thing to do, but we've both had a crappy day, I felt lonely, and you probably, too. This doesn't have to be a bad thing, it's only as bad as we make it,” he said gently, taking her hand into his.  
Clara exhaled sharply. “Yeah, I guess you're right.”  
“Do you want some breakfast?” he asked, “I'm afraid I have to leave soon but you can use the shower before you leave if you want to. I put your clothes in the bathroom.”  
“Thank you, but I'll be late for your class if I take the time to shower.”  
“Don't worry about it. You're not feeling well and it's sort of my fault. I'll mark you down as attending.”  
“Thanks,” she said, her voice weak.  
The Doctor pushed a plate filled with delicious looking ham and eggs in front of her nose and Clara felt her appetite returning at the sight of it. They had breakfast in silence before the Doctor announced he had to leave for work.  
“You can take a shower or go back to bed if you want. Just close the door behind you if you leave,” the Doctor reminded her.  
_If_ you leave. He almost sounded as if he expected her to still be here when he returned after classes and Clara most certainly wouldn't let it come to that. She nodded and got up to say goodbye, hearing him take a deep breath.  
“Listen, even if you don't remember. I had a really great time last night, I haven't felt that good in months and I just wanted to thank you for that,” he said earnestly and bent down to give her a swift kiss on the cheek.  
Clara watched him turn away from her and grab his briefcase. Now was her last chance to say it, even if the truth hurt. As far as she could remember she hadn't been thinking about Danny all night.  
“I had a great time, too. I think,” she forced herself to smile and waited until he was out of the door before she started crying mercilessly.

She had cheated on Danny with her professor. Of course he was dead but Clara felt as if she had betrayed their love and insulted his memory.  
_You can't mourn him forever, you need to go out into the world and live your life_ , her grandmother had told her a few months earlier and that was when Clara had decided to go back to university. But her gran was doing the exact opposite. Her grandfather had died years ago and she had kept their apartment a shrine in his memory. Clara felt as if she ought to do the same, after all, her grandmother was the woman she had always admired the most.  
Clara took a deep breath. She needed to get out of here and she would do exactly what the Doctor had said. Shower and go back to her own apartment. She would pretend that last night had never happened and after the semester was over she would never have to see Professor Doctor John Smith ever again.


	2. Part 2

**OOO**

 

The alarm clock woke her the next morning and Clara felt her stomach clench at the thought of going to the Doctor's class. She wasn't prepared to look him in the eye, she didn't think she ever would. How did all the other girls he had slept with handle it? Did they just walk into class with a smug smile on their face, knowing they would get an A on their final essay and not care about having slept with their professor at all?  
Clara closed her eyes again. What was the worst thing that could happen if she dropped the class? She would have to try again next year, but would that be any less awkward? The Doctor would know it was because of him and how would that look? That she was too embarrassed to show up again? That she was too disgusted? No, he had already been feeling down and Clara didn't want to fracture his ego any more. If only his class wasn't mandatory she could've told him she had taken up too many courses and needed to drop some of them.  
When she opened her eyes again and glanced at the clock her heart skipped a beat. She had fallen back asleep and classes would start in 15 minutes. Cussing she jumped out of bed, grabbed the first pieces of clothing she could find and put them on, almost stumbling over her own pants as she did so. She grabbed her bag and quickly glanced into the mirror in the corridor. Ah well, she would just have to deal with looking like crap. Clara flattened her hair as best as she could and broke out into a run. 

When she reached his classroom door his class had already started 10 minutes ago. Clara took a deep breath, still panting from the early exercise, and knocked.  
“Come in,” she heard the Doctor's gravelly voice.  
Clara opened the door and carefully stepped inside. She dared to look at him only for a second and watched his frown turn into a delighted smile.  
“Oh, Miss Oswald, I was started to get worried,” he said casually.  
“Sorry. I overslept,” she apologized, her eyes now fixed on the floor. She couldn't bear the sight of him. She had come here looking like a homeless person and he was absolutely dashing, hair still tousled but clean shaven and not a single winkle in his shirt.  
Unfortunately the only free seat in the room appeared to be one in the first row, right in front of him, that her friend Margie had secured for her. Clara sighed and sat down.  
“He looks good today, don't you think?” Margie leaned closer and whispered into her ear.  
Clara turned to face her. “Who are you talking about?”  
“The Doctor of course.”  
“Oh, uhm, I haven't noticed,” Clara replied and busied herself with unpacking her notes.  
“You should have seen him yesterday. He seemed over the moon, like the exact opposite of the day before that.”  
“Aha,” she mumbled in reply, trying to sound as indifferent as possible, “Listen, can I borrow your notes? I wasn't feeling well yesterday.”  
“Sure thing.”

Clara turned her attention back to the Doctor, trying to ignore the pieces of information her friend had just given her. He liked her. She had tried to ignore it the day before, but he did and he probably wouldn't mind seeing her again. Clara felt the urge to bang her head on the desk.  
“Now that we've covered the basics about gender studies in the past few centuries, I'd like to continue with the depiction and sexualization of women in modern culture,” the Doctor announced. He turned to the blackboard, an old fashioned one, and wrote down the topic of today's class before asking everyone: “What keywords come to mind when you think about it?”  
Clara watched his swift hand scribble down the class's suggestions without really listening. His low voice started to trigger a few memories that she had forgotten about until now. _They had been standing in the middle of his living room, shoes kicked off and the song had just ended, yet his hands had remained on her body, holding her steady against his own, hips rubbing against each other. He had bent down and kissed her throat first, that certain spot which had always been her weakness. Clara had giggled when she had felt something hard press against her hips._  
“I'm sorry,” he had apologized, “I got a little carried away.”  
The Doctor had tried to release her from his grip but she had been unsteady on her own two feet. Clara had no idea what had gotten into her that night but she remembered now that she had started it. She had actually begged him to fuck her.   
Clara groaned internally and just prayed for this class to be over quickly so she wouldn't have to be reminded of their encounter with every word he spoke. 

“Alright, that would be it for today. Please, if you can find the time, I uploaded a few pages that I would like you to read until tomorrow.”  
Clara sighed with relief and started to pack her things as her fellow students started doing the same. It was over now, she had done it. She should be proud of herself. And then she heard the Doctor call out her name.  
“Miss Oswald, would you mind coming into my office for a quick chat? It's about yesterday,” he said with a sincere smile.  
Everyone in the room probably just assumed it was because she had missed the class on the previous day but Clara knew better. This wasn't about the class. This was about them.  
“I'm sorry, I have to get to my next class,” she lied. She had about an hour before her next course started.  
“I won't keep you long. If you're late you can blame it on me,” he promised her. 

Clara wondered for a moment what could be worse than being in a room alone with the Doctor right now but she couldn't think of anything. She followed him through the corridor without saying a word and held her breath until he had closed the door behind them.  
Clara had to gather all of her courage to look at him only to realize he was smiling happily.  
“How are you feeling? How's the head?” he asked, leaning his back against his desk.  
“Fine,” she replied, not knowing what else she could add.  
“Glad to hear it. I was worried when you didn't show up today. I thought you had decided to drop my class,” he confessed, letting out a tiny, insecure laugh.  
“I was considering it,” Clara admitted, “But I'd have to come back next semester anyway, so. . .”  
“What are you doing tonight?” the Doctor suddenly asked quickly, as if he was afraid his courage might fail him if he spoke slowly.  
“I, uhm, I don't know,” she spluttered. Oh God, this was exactly what she had feared.  
“Just so you know, I'm not going to give you a bad grade if you refuse, but I would really like to see you again.”  
“I can't,” Clara exhaled sharply, “I'm sorry. I'm not really looking for something right now. That night, that was stupid and nothing special. You should just forget it ever happened.”  
The Doctor was still smiling but he seemed sad now. He shook his head.  
“That's easy for you to say. You might not remember but I do. I can't think about anything but you. I remember everything about the other night. The smell of your perfume that haunts me, the touch of your skin, the way you laughed. God, Clara, you should laugh more often. You're so beautiful when you laugh.”  
“I haven't had a lot of reasons to laugh lately,” she admitted sadly, watching the Doctor closely. He had truly fallen head over heels for her. That was bad, that was worse than bad, it was a disaster. She couldn't date her professor. She just couldn't.  
The Doctor pushed himself away from the desk and started to approach her, causing Clara to take a step back.  
“I remember you shiver when I kissed you there,” he said gently, pointing at her neck. Clara quickly covered that spot with her scarf.  
He had reached her now, standing right in front of her. So close she could feel the heat of his body.  
“Tell me I'm an old, disgusting bastard and I'll go away,” he said earnestly.  
“You said you were done with students,” Clara tried to reason with him.  
“I thought I was. I meant every word I said to you. I haven't been this happy in a really long time. I really thought you enjoyed it as well, but apparently I was wrong.”  
“I did. I did enjoy it,” she told him, “But I'm not ready to start anything.”  
She could have told him the truth. She could have told him that her boyfriend had died and he would have understood. But she didn't. Instead she grabbed her bag, said she was sorry and stormed out of the room. 

Clara was glad to be back in her own apartment that evening. She imagined that closing the door behind her meant locking out all of her problems and worries, but tonight it just wouldn't work. The Doctor wouldn't leave her alone.  
If she was being perfectly honest with herself she had to admit that she indeed found him attractive in some way that she couldn't fully comprehend. Yet it didn't matter. She didn't want to be a second Eileen. She wasn't ready to get over Danny's death and become the Doctor's. . . whatever it would be. Affair? Girlfriend? All she truly wanted was to cling to and wrap herself in her dead boyfriend's memory.  
Clara threw her coat aside and prepared herself a cup of tea, still having some homework to do for the following day. She sat down at her desk, opened her laptop and spotted a new e-mail in her university account. She opened it without taking a look at the sender and soon realized that no other than the Doctor had written her. 

“ _Dear Clara,  
I am sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable. I promise to respect your wishes and leave you alone from now on. Please don't drop this class because of our little encounter the other night. Your education is more important than any personal problems we might have._

 _The Doctor._ ”

Clara was about to close the mail and carry on with her homework, but it seemed a little rude to leave it unanswered. After all, the Doctor had only expressed his feelings for her and was now apologizing sincerely. She didn't really know what to reply, so she typed a simple “Thank you” before turning her attention back to her homework, glad that this problem appeared to be solved.

 

**OOO**

 

Clara switched off the radio and groaned. Damn public transport had to go on strike on a Saturday when she needed to go grocery shopping. She still had her old bike in the basement that she hadn't used in years and Clara wasn't even sure if she could still ride it, but there was no way she'd be carrying all those groceries back home on two feet.  
She walked downstairs, armed with a cloth and a bucket of water and cleaned her old bike off the dust that had gathered there over the last years. She carried it back upstairs and set it down on the road, hoping that at least the fresh air and exercise would do her good. It had been over a week since she had slept with her professor and although he had been nothing but a professional ever since they had talked Clara found it hard to get him out of her head. In fact, it was getting harder with every day that passed. She dismissed the thoughts whenever they came, making excuses like: I am just lonely, he's not that attractive, he's probably sleeping with another student already, I still love Danny, it's too soon. Yet they didn't help her when she was sitting in his class, finding herself daydreaming about him. Clara could remember almost everything about their night now, and it had been good. Too good to discard it and she wished now that the memory would finally start to fade away.

She jumped on her bike and started to pedal, the chain making the most unusual cracking noises as she did so. It was old and rusty and the sound probably a completely normal thing for such an old bike but at least she could still remember how to ride it.  
Clara had just driven around a few corners and reached the main street when there was a snapping sound and the pedals ceased to react. She came to a halt within a few metres. She got off the bike to examine the damage, hoping a passing stranger would be helpful and know how to put a chain back on when she saw the disaster. The old, rusty chain had snapped in two and even though she wasn't an expert Clara knew that there was no quick and easy way of fixing this.  
“Can this awful day get any worse?” she said aloud, almost yelled it in fact and gave her old bike a good kick, “Fuck!”  
“Uhm, can I help you?” a familiar voice said behind her.  
Clara knew who it was before she turned around. The Doctor was sitting in his car, window rolled down and smiled apologetically in her direction.  
Yes, apparently, it could get worse.  
“What do you want?” Clara demanded angrily.  
“I saw you beat up your bike and stopped. Is there something I can help you with?”  
“Go away!” Clara fastened her bike to the nearest pole and started walking. She would just get it later. 

“Looks like you need a new chain,” the Doctor, who had gotten out of his car as quickly as possible, said as he examined the damage.  
“Oh, you don't say,” she rolled her eyes.  
“Wow, someone is having a crappy day. Where were you off to? I was just on my way to do some shopping. Maybe I could give you a lift?” he suggested.  
Clara sighed. She really could think of better ways to get him out of her mind that stepping into his car but they appeared to have the same destination and she really, really didn't feel like walking.  
“Sorry,” she said sincerely, “You're right. I'm really having a bad day. I was just on my way to get groceries and then this happened,” Clara pointed at the bike and had to refrain from kicking it again.  
“So,” he raised his eyebrows, “Do you want that lift or not?”  
“Fine,” Clara said and started walking towards the car.

Sitting next to him didn't turn out to be as awkward as she had thought it would be. He asked her what shop she would like to go to and when Clara replied that she didn't really care as long as they had groceries the Doctor made the decision for her. He asked her how she had been, said that he had already graded her latest coursework, that it was good and she would be getting it back on Monday morning.  
“I'm cooking dinner tonight for a friend and his wife who are in town. I also need to buy a cookbook cause I have no idea what I'd be doing otherwise,” he admitted.  
Clara started to laugh. “What, you invite people for dinner and you can't cook?”  
“Well, they sort of invited themselves. I had no choice, besides he is letting me use his summer cottage and boat at the Welsh coast next weekend.”  
“Summer cottage in December?” she asked in disbelief.  
“It's still nice during the winter and I want to go fishing.”

Clara said nothing, she knew better than to argue with a man over manly hobbies like fishing and they had also reached the supermarket. She was about to grab her own cart, when the Doctor stopped her.  
“I don't need much, we can put it in one,” he said, “Come on.”  
“What if someone from university sees us? It looks like we're shopping together.”  
The Doctor shrugged. “We are.”  
“But what will they think?” Clara asked. She wasn't keen on being the subject of gossip.  
“Don't worry, Clara. I've been shopping here for years and I haven't seen one familiar face. Now come on.”

He was right. The supermarket was filled with lots of stressed people who probably could think of better ways to spend their Saturday morning than with standing in a queue. The Doctor was first in line to pay and when the cashier had finished scanning the articles he quickly removed to barrier that separated her items from his.  
“Keep going,” he told the cashier.  
“Wait, what?,” Clara, who had been lost in her own thoughts, intervened, “No way. These are mine and I'm gonna pay for them.”  
“Ignore her,” the Doctor turned back to the cashier, “I'm paying.”  
Clara put her arms akimbo. “No way. You're not paying for my groceries.”  
“Well, which one is it gonna be?” the cashier asked impatiently.  
“I'll pay.”  
“No, he won't.”  
“We could keep this going for another hour and really piss off anyone in line behind us or you can just accept and let me pay,” the Doctor winked at her, knowing she really didn't want to anger all those people behind her. He turned back to the woman behind the register and said: “I'm paying.”  
Clara started packing the groceries, still mad at the Doctor and vowed to herself to pay him back as soon as they were in the car. 

“Why did you insist on paying?” she asked angrily as they headed back to the parking lot.  
The Doctor shrugged. “You seemed to be having such a bad day, I thought a nice gesture would cheer you up.”  
“Well, it doesn't,” Clara said, “It makes me feel like a little girl who can't pay for her own shopping.”  
She caught the Doctor looking at her as if he was trying to determine if she had a problem with not being in control, which was true, but even if he had figured her out, he didn't show it.  
“Well, I'm sorry if I made you feel this way. But hey, if you want to you can do something nice for me in return and we're even,” he suggested.  
“I'll think about it,” she said grudgingly.


	3. Part 3

**OOO**

 

When the car came to a halt in front of her apartment, the Doctor was already about to say goodbye but Clara had been thinking about their chance encounter and she had really been unnecessary rude to him.  
“One question,” Clara said earnestly.  
“Yes?”  
“Did you really just see me kick my bike when you happened to drive by or were you stalking me?”  
“What?” the Doctor raised both of his eyebrows and Clara knew immediately that she shouldn't have asked.  
“Well, just checking,” she replied apologetically.  
“Clara, I really have better things to do with my time than to follow my students around. Sorry to disappoint you.”  
“Sorry, I just felt like I should ask.”

Clara fell silent but she could tell by the look of his face that the Doctor knew she wasn't quite finished saying what she wanted to say.  
“Listen, I thought about what you said. About doing something nice for you in return and if you want to I can help you cook dinner for your guests,” she suggested.  
The Doctor's eyes widened in surprise.  
“Really? You don't have to do it, you know. You don't have to do anything in return, really.”  
“I want to. Besides, I'm afraid you might poison your guests accidentally.”

The Doctor refused to let Clara help with the heavy lifting and insisted on carrying her bags full of groceries up to the floor on which she lived. She opened the door, hoping she hadn't left embarrassing pieces or clothing lying around.  
“We've got all the ingredients for lasagne and it can be warmed up easily. No one will notice you didn't make it yourself,” Clara explained as she led him into her kitchen.  
“Sounds great,” he set down the bags and started to look around.  
“Hey, why don't you wait in the living room while I unpack? The kitchen isn't really built for two people to hover around in.”

The Doctor retreated to the living room, still examining her apartment curiously while Clara tried to fight the feeling that she had probably made a mistake inviting her professor inside. She didn't want to rekindle his hopes and she would also very much like to avoid developing some kind of feelings for him. It wasn't easy to stop thinking about him in class and now that she peeked through the crack of the door, spying on him going through her bookshelves, it seemed almost impossible. The Doctor had thrown aside his jacket and Clara noticed he wasn't wearing his usual trousers and neatly ironed shirt but instead a pair of faded jeans and a jumper. He was looking so casual that Clara almost forgot he was her professor at all and she caught herself fantasizing for a moment what it would feel like if he was caressing her instead of the spines of her books, if he pushed her against her bookshelves and slid his hand down her pants and. . .  
Clara stopped her imagination when she found herself moaning internally and quickly turned her attention back to the groceries that still needed unpacking. She would not sleep with him again. The first time had been a mistake, a second time would be complete stupidity.  
When Clara was done putting away her shopping she went back into the living room, glad she was now able to look at him without having her hormones drive her wild. And then she saw him holding a photograph.  
“You know, you could've just told me you have a boyfriend,” the Doctor said, looking up from the only picture Clara had of herself and Danny as a couple.  
She swallowed hard.  
“I, uhm, I don't,” she replied simply, slightly shaken by the reminder of Danny. The last thing she wanted to do right now was to get into detail about how he had died in a car accident, “Not anymore. Please, just put the picture back.”  
The Doctor obeyed and placed it on the exact same spot he had taken it from.  
“Sorry, I didn't mean to pry,” he apologized and Clara was glad he didn't ask any more questions, “Shall we start cooking?”

He followed Clara wordlessly into the kitchen and watched her select the ingredients. She put a pan on the stove and started on the mince meat.  
“Hey, can you pass me the thyme from that rack over there?” she asked and pointed at the small shelf filled with herbs.  
The Doctor turned away from her and suddenly started humming.  
“ _Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme_ ,” he sang and Clara had to refrain from laughing. Not because he wasn't a good singer, because he was, but because it just seemed silly at this moment.  
“I said pass me the thyme, not burst into song,” Clara commented with a smile.  
“ _Remember me to one who lives there_ ,” he continued with a broad grin, handing her the herb she had wanted.  
“Stop it,” she giggled.  
“Ha!” the Doctor pointed at her, “You're laughing.”  
“Of course I'm laughing, you're being extremely silly. Do you always do this?” Clara asked.  
“What? Being silly? Yeah, sometimes.”  
The Doctor grabbed the casserole and started greasing it.  
“But I really just wanted to make you laugh,” he explained, “In fact, you should hire someone to make you laugh at least once a day cause I don't think you always remember on your own.”  
“What? You mean like a clown?” Clara raised an eyebrow.  
He gave a slight shrug. “If you're into that, sure, why not? He could be waiting in front of your door every morning with one of those flowers that spray water in your face.”  
“Yeah, that would really brighten up my day,” she replied, her voice loaded with sarcasm.  
“He'd be in a hospital with a really bad concussion by the end of the first week.”  
“Or a broken leg,” she waited until the Doctor had sat the casserole down on the counter, “Now, let's put in everything we can find.”  
“Everything?” he asked.  
“Yeah, whatever goes into lasagne. Mince meat, pasta, paprika, bit of pepper and salt,” she explained.  
“Some old textbooks, a shoe,” the Doctor added.  
“Well, it's your dinner,” Clara looked up at him before she broke out into laughter again. She punched his arm gently, “You're a madman. I will never eat anyhing that you cooked.”  
“You could come, you know,” he said nonchalantly, “To dinner, I mean.”  
Clara stopped what she was doing and stared at him, but he seemed not to notice it.  
“I don't think that's such a good idea,” she replied.  
The Doctor sighed. “Yeah, you're probably right. I'm sorry. Forget I even suggested it.”

She nodded and turned her attention back to the food. It would probably have been fun, having dinner with him and his friends, but she mustn't forget that despite everything he was still her professor and she his student.  
“Don't you think there should be a little more salt in there?” the Doctor asked, apparently eager to change the subject now that the situation was becoming awkward again.  
“No, it's good,” Clara replied.  
“Are you sure?”  
“Yes, very,” she said, “Now, put some cheese on it and we're done.”  
The Doctor reached for the cheese and slightly brushed her hips in the movement. Clara stiffened noticeably at the unexpected contact.  
“Sorry,” he uttered.  
“It's okay,” Clara replied, daring to look him into the eye, “It was accident. Accidents can happen.”  
“Yes,” the Doctor stared back at her.  
She felt as if she could cut the tension with a knife. How could it be that a simply suggestion was able to turn a perfectly normal situation into an awkward silence? Clara cleared her throat.  
“Your hand,” she said.  
“What about it?”  
“It's still on my hip.”  
The Doctor quickly removed his hand and stepped away from her. He only stopped when he had reached what Clara considered a safe distance. Without saying another word she added the cheese and shoved the lasagne into the oven.  
“There, all done. I'm leaving it in for 30 minutes, give it another 10 before your guests arrive,” she told him.  
“Alright, I will do that. Thanks for helping out.”  
“No problem.”

They both stood there, facing each other without really knowing what to say. Clara started to tap her foot impatiently, desperately trying to think about something other than him.  
“So, what do we do in the meantime?” he asked as if reading her thoughts.  
Clara exhaled sharply. “I'm packing my suitcase and I'm taking. . .?”  
“I'm sorry?”  
“It's a game. A stupid one,” Clara explained.  
“Or how about we go for a walk and get your bike?” the Doctor suggested.  
She had to admit, getting out of her apartment was probably the best idea ever. She wasn't sure if she could trust herself not to kiss him just to end the weirdness.  
“Good idea, let's do that!”

They both grabbed their coats and Clara was glad to breathe in the fresh December air.  
“When do you need that casserole dish back?” he asked her as they walked along the pavement.  
“Oh, not too soon,” she replied, “It's always a bit much for just one person.”  
“I'll just pop by sometime next week and return it after class,” the Doctor said, “You know, I think I might have an old bike chain lying around somewhere in my garage. Maybe it'll fit on yours.”  
“You don't have to look for it just because of me, I probably won't ride that bike for the next five years again.”  
“Ah, so you're cured.”  
Clara smiled. “Yeah, you could say that.”

 

 **OOO**

The next day Clara was very proud of herself. She had spent almost the entire day with the Doctor and nothing had happened between the two of them. She was very confident that she would get over her little crush very soon and so would he and her life could return to normal. She hadn't really gotten around to do her homework the previous day, so she just threw her bathrobe over her shoulders, prepared a cup of tea and sat down at her desk to get some work done.  
When she opened her university email account she spotted an unread mail from the Doctor and opened it.

_“Dinner was a huge success. Thank you so much for helping out. You probably saved their lives.  
John.”_

Clara noticed that he had signed the mail with his first name and not his university nickname. Well, they had already slept together, so why not? She quickly typed her reply.

_“I'm glad you liked it. You didn't add any more salt, did you?  
Clara.”_

She only had time to read half a page for her university coursework when Clara heard the usual ding that announced another new email.

_“Of course not, boss. P.S. Have you remembered to smile today?”_

_“Smiling right now. Thank you for the sweet reminder and I truly hope there isn't a clown waiting on my doorstep? ;)”_

Clara wasn't even lying. His email had truly put a smile on her face.

_“No clown, I promise. What does ';)' mean? I'm afraid I never understood the purpose of those odd combinations.”_

_“It's a smiling face, winking at you.”_

_“Are you winking at me? That's very cheeky, Miss Oswald. But in that case ;)”_

Clara knew she should stop right there, tell him she had work to do for her classes and sign out. Instead they kept exchanging emails over the course of the day. She had to admit that she found it much easier to write to him without having to look him in the eye and she even dared to drop a flirty hint here and there, enjoying his responses a little too much for her taste. 

It had gotten rather late and she decided to curl up in her bed with a cup of hot cocoa and a good book, but she dared one last mail.

_“I'm going to bed now. Looking for a good book to read. Any suggestions?”_

_“I'm reading_ Brida _by P. Coelho. It's very good.”_

Clara looked around the internet and found an e-book. She decided that John must have a good taste and downloaded it. She really had no idea what else do read.

_“Downloading it to my reader right now. If it's not good, I'll blame you and lose all respect ;). Good night.”_

_“See you tomorrow. Sweet dreams :*”_

Clara stared at the screen in disbelief. This morning he hadn't even known the meaning of a wink and now he was sending her a kiss? This must have been a typo, for sure. She quickly closed the lid of her laptop and bit her lip. It was most definitely a mistake. He wouldn't know what it meant and even if he did, he wouldn't dare send it to her.  
Clara shook her head, deciding it was just another accident and she would ignore it. In fact, she wouldn't even continue writing to him. What had she even been thinking, exchanging emails with him all day and enjoying it when she had been so determined to put an end to this madness?  
Angrily Clara grabbed her reader and mug and trudged off to bed but she soon found she couldn't concentrate on a single word she was reading. John Smith had taken over her mind yet again. 

 

**OOO**

 

“Hey Margie,” Clara greeted her friend on the corridor and they proceeded to walk to class together.  
“How was your weekend?” she asked her.  
“I have made a decision last weekend,” Margie announced, “Today is the day.”  
Clara noticed that her friend sounded more excited than usually although she wouldn't have thought that was even possible.  
“The day for what?”  
“I am going to hit on him.”  
“Hit on who?”  
Margie rolled her eyes. “The Doctor, you silly thing. I'm going to stay behind and chat him up after class.”  
Clara's heart sank into her boots. She stopped dead in her tracks.  
“What?” she asked, outraged at her friend's plan, “You can't do that.”  
“Oh, you just watch me,” Margie grinned at her.  
“But, but you can't,” Clara stammered. She had to think of a very good and reasonable argument right now without telling her friend what had been going on between her and John, “He's our professor. You can't sleep with him, Marge.”  
“Darling, I'm really sorry, but I'm not going to renounce sex just because you don't have a love life of your own. Besides, he might be our professor but everyone knows he's got a thing for young women.”

It took Clara quite some time to figure out why it was really bothering her, but she couldn't avoid to admit that she felt jealous. Jealous because she knew it was true and that by the end of the day he might really have sex with her friend.  
“Marge, please, he is our professor. That would be really inappropriate,” Clara said.  
“Yeah, I know that. And it might get me a better grade at the end of the semester. But don't think that that's the reason I'm going to do it. Have you looked at him lately? He's hotter than ever,” Margie faked a moaning sound.  
_Yes, that's because he's in love. With me_ , Clara thought and immediately knew it was true. He had always looked slightly dishevelled and unshaven, but ever since they had slept together he had started to take better care of himself. His clothes were ironed, his chin shaved and he appeared to be. . . happier. No wonder other women were attracted to him now.  
“Please, I'm asking you one last time. Don't do it,” Clara said desperately, “It might ruin this class for you.”  
“Speaking from experience now?”  
“What? No. Of course not,” Clara spluttered.

They entered the classroom together and took their usual places and she watched in disgust how Margie smiled at John when he stepped into the room. Clara had exactly 90 minutes to think of a way to prevent this.


	4. Chapter 4

**OOO**

 

Clara packed her things as slowly as possible but she soon realized that she was still beating Margie to it. She threw her friend a sinister glance, pointing her eyes at the door but she only smiled back at her.  
“Are you coming?” Clara asked impatiently.  
“No, I need to ask a thing first,” Margie winked at her with a broad grin.  
Clara was stumped. What else could she do? Stay? Watch Margie hit on John right in front of her eyes? They were now the only three people left in this classroom and Clara saw in horror that her friend was already headed for the front desk. It was about time she admitted her defeat and so Clara scuffled her feet out of the room and along the corridor, hearing John and Margie laugh from a distance. 

No, this wasn't how it was going to go down. Clara turned on her heels and went straight back to the classroom, determined to put an end to their conversation. When she walked through the door she spotted John smiling at Margie while putting his hand on her shoulder. It was now or never.  
“Uhm, Mister Smith, can I ask you a question about my essay?” Clara blurted out, “I'm having trouble understanding this source you uploaded a few days ago.”  
John looked up over Margie's shoulder, the smile never fading from his face.  
“Oh, uhm, of course, Miss Oswald,” he replied.  
Margie turned around and John led her out of the room, taking his hand off her only when they had reached the corridor.  
“I'll see you, Miss Dawson.”  
_I'll see you?_  
“Miss Oswald, why don't you come into my office? I'm afraid I don't have that specific source on me right now but it's on my laptop,” he suggested.  
Clara caught Margie glaring at her just before she turned around to follow John into his office. If he knew what she was doing, he didn't show it, so she waited patiently until he had closed the door behind them.

“Okay, Clara, what can I _really_ do for you?” he asked.  
She took a deep breath and stepped closer. “Do you have a key for your office door?”  
John seemed a little taken aback by this odd question. “Yeah, why?”  
“Lock it,” she demanded.  
“Oh, feeling bossy today?” He raised an eyebrow. When Clara didn't reply he proceeded to do what she had asked.  
As soon as the door was locked, Clara approached him until there was no space left between them and pushed him back against the wall, pressing an unexpected kiss to his lips.

“Clara, what are you doing?” he mumbled while their mouths still touched.  
She pulled away and cocked her head a little. “Don't ask questions.”  
“But,” John held her at a distance when she was about to kiss him again, “I would really like to know what brought about this change of heart.”  
Clara let out a groan, unable to believe him. She knew he wanted her, he was the one who said he would like to see her again. And now that he could have her easily he wanted to _talk_?  
“Does that really matter?” she asked, trying not to sound too annoyed.  
“To me it matters. I just want to make sure this is what you want and that you're not going to change your mind again in a few hours,” he explained.  
“Why? I want you now, isn't that enough?”  
“No,” John pushed her gently into the direction of a chair and took a seat next to her, “I don't want to be your little fling. I've had my heart broken and I'm not keen on having another round on this particular carousel.”  
Clara had to admit that he had a good point. She had stormed into his classroom earlier, very suddenly determined to seduce him because she had been afraid someone else might get to him. But she wasn't the only one in this room who had lost something.  
“I,” she took a deep breath, “I think I was jealous.”  
“I'm sorry?”  
“Margie, she said,” Clara groaned, “She said she wanted to seduce you.”  
“What?” John's eyes widened, he sounded angry now, “And you planned to stop her because although you're not really sure if you want me, no one else can have me?”  
“I do want you, I think. I've been trying to talk myself out of it but it's not really working so well,” she admitted sadly.  
“You really thought I was going to sleep with Margie?”  
“Well. . .”  
“ _Really?_ ”  
“You said you had the habit of sleeping with your students,” Clara said, sounding a lot more accusingly than she had intended to.  
“Yeah, before I met Eileen. I wasn't going to pick my old hobby back up again.”  
“You slept with _me_ ,” she countered.  
“Yes, because I like you. And if the sex hadn't happened I would've asked you out at the end of the semester. Clara, I'm seriously interested in you. The only important question right now is: you can say the same about me?”

Clara hesitated for a moment. It wasn't that she had no interest in him, but it still felt like she was betraying Danny.  
“I am interested.”  
“Why do I have the feeling there's a but coming?” John raised an eyebrow.  
“Because I'm not sure if I'm ready for a new relationship.”  
John rose from his chair and crossed the distance to her, extending his hands to pull her up.  
“I think it's a start,” he said, pulling her into an embrace and she gladly wrapped her arms around him, “I think we can try to work with that, don't you? It's definitely worth a shot.”  
“I guess you're right.”  
John tightened the grip around her to press her body closer to his and softly kissed her hair. They both stood there in silence for a moment before he continued.  
“So, do you want me to take you for dinner tonight? Some place nice, but casual? Just the two of us, nice food and no expectations?”  
“That sounds lovely.”  
“Just one thing. Promise me you won't change your mind until then?”  
Clara smiled and cocked her head to look at him. “I promise. Pick me up at 7.”  
He slipped his hand under her chin and bent down to press a swift kiss on her lips.

 

 **OOO**

When Clara left the building she spotted Margie already waiting for her outside. She was about to prepare herself for a fight and Clara noticed with surprise that her friend was smiling kindly at her.  
“You don't look too mad anymore,” Clara commented.  
“Nah,” Margie shrugged it off, “You know what? You're actually kind of a good friend, storming in there with a spontaneously made up essay question to save me from potential trouble.”  
Clara was relieved to find her smiling and joking. And also because she seemed to have bought the excuse.  
“Besides,” her friend went on, “Before you came in he kindly told me he was already sort of seeing someone.”  
“Oh, really?” Clara asked, trying to sound surprised, but another matter weighed on her mind right now. Margie considered her a good friend. They had only known each other for two months, but they had seen each other almost every day in classes, sometimes gone out for a cup of coffee afterwards, so Clara guessed it was kind of a friendship. And if she was honest with herself, she really needed a friend's opinion right now.  
“Margie,” Clara started, “Do you have a little time?”  
“Wow, that sounds serious. What's the matter?”  
“Can we walk?” she asked, “I'd prefer it if we walked.”

When they had reached a nearby park Margie seemed to grow a little anxious about what Clara was going to tell her, so she finally began to talk.  
“If I tell you something, will you promise not to treat me any differently?”  
“Sure,” Margie agreed, “What's wrong?”  
“No, not _sure_. You have to promise me.”  
“Alright, I promise. Now, spill it! I'm dying here. What could possibly be so bad that I would start treating you differently?”  
Clara took a deep breath.“Okay, I'm only telling you this because I'm really in need of advice. Remember I said I used to be a teacher before I went back to university?”  
“Yeah, you said you couldn't handle the pressure,” her friend added, “So?”  
“That was a lie. I had this boyfriend, Danny. He was one of my colleagues, that's how we met,” Clara went on, “He died a year ago. Car accident.”  
Margie stopped to look at Clara. It was that look that Clara hated so much, the one that said “ _Oh, you poor thing, I'm sorry and I'm also glad that didn't happen to me_ ”. She took Clara's hand.  
“See?” Clara pulled her hand back, “That's what I was talking about. You're giving me the look.”  
“Well, I apologize for being sorry,” Margie replied angrily, “I take it you didn't go back to school cause it reminded you of him and everyone just looked at you like 'oh, there goes the woman whose boyfriend died', right?”  
“Exactly,” Clara said, surprised her friend had understood so quickly, “I wanted a fresh start. That's why I didn't really want to tell anyone.”  
“And why are you telling me now?”  
“Because I met someone,” she admitted sadly.  
“And . . . you don't think you're ready cause it feels like cheating?” Margie asked.  
“Wow, you're quick.”  
She shrugged. “Mum's a therapist. I picked things up. You know that's stupid, right? No man who loved you would want you to waste your life grieving.”  
“No, I'm done grieving,” Clara said determinedly.  
“Yeah, see, that's where you are wrong,” Margie replied and resumed walking with Clara starting to follow her again, “If you were done mourning you'd be in school, teaching kids and you wouldn't be here asking me for advice on your new guy.”  
“No, really, I stopped crying myself to sleep months ago. I'm better now.”  
“Clara, the whole world can see that you're a bitch,” Margie said blatantly.  
“ _Excuse me_?”  
“Except you're not. You're still mourning your boyfriend. You're angry because you feel like life has cheated you out of something wonderful and that's completely understandable. But believe me, dating a new guy a year after you boyfriend's death is not cheating, it's called taking your life back.”  
“But what do I do?” Clara asked.  
“Well, do you like him?”  
“Yeah, I think I do.”  
“Then date him. See what happens. And tell him about Danny,” Margie advised.  
“I don't want him to know.”  
“But he has a right to know, Clara. He would want to know.”  
Clara sighed.  
“Don't feel bad about it. Danny would want you to be happy. I didn't know him, but I'm pretty sure the only objection he would have is,” Margie changed her voice, attempting to sound manly, “ _That man better treat you right or I'll come back down from heaven and beat the shit out of him_.”  
Clara broke out into laughter.  
“He wasn't a violent person, but I think he'd come down from heaven and give him a verbal beating.”  
“See? Nothing can go wrong then! And you know what we're going to do now?” Margie asked.  
“What?”  
“We're going to buy you a nice new dress that you can wear when you go out with the new guy.”  
“You know what?” Clara asked, feeling a little more cheerful now, “That actually sounds like a good idea.”  
“Who is this guy anyway?”  
“Oh, that's a story for another day. Now all I want to talk about is dresses and make up.”

 

 **OOO**

 

The conversation with Margie had actually cheered Clara up and she couldn't believe why she hadn't talked to her about Danny much, much earlier. Her friend was right. Danny wouldn't have wanted her to waste her life away. She knew she wouldn't be able to get him out of her mind any time soon, maybe Clara never would, and it would feel odd being with another man for quite some time. But at least now she was hopeful that this feeling might fade and she could actually resume her life, keeping Danny in the back of her mind as a memory of the good times they had had together, not as the dominating feeling of dread and loss and emptiness.  
And Clara was really looking forward to her date with John now. While shopping with Margie earlier she had chosen a short, midnight blue dress with lace sleeves and after doing her hair and applying her make up she felt prettier than she had in a very long time. She applied a few sprinkles of _Coco Noir_ on her neck and slipped her pumps on just as the door bell rang. Clara checked her watch. It was exactly 7 o'clock. Grabbing her coat and purse she left her apartment and went downstairs.

John greeted her at the door with a warm smile, sharply dressed in black trousers and a white shirt hidden under a coat with red lining.  
“You said it was casual,” Clara commented.  
“It is. Do you see a tie cause I don't.”  
Clara frowned but it quickly turned into a smile when he held out his arm for her to take.  
“You look very beautiful,” he whispered into her ear as he led her to the car and Clara felt his deep voice sending a tingling feeling down her spine.  
“Thank you. Are you going to tell me where you're taking me or is it a surprise?”  
“I thought Italian. You like Italian, right?”  
“Love it,” Clara replied. 

When they had stepped into the car, Clara waited for him to start driving. Instead he turned around to look at her, his gaze mesmerized.  
“What?” she asked, laughing away the insecurity that had suddenly emerged.  
“Nothing, you're just. . . Thank you for giving me a chance,” John replied earnestly, reaching out to take her hand.  
“Thank you for putting up with my moodiness.”

He drove her to a nice and cosy restaurant in the middle of the city and led her inside, even holding her chair for her like a true gentleman would.  
“Soooo, John Smith,” Clara said after the waiter had taken their order and walked away, “What do you do when you're not at the university?”  
“You mean as in hobbies?” Clara nodded, “Well, you already know I like the outdoors and fishing and _not cooking_. I read a lot, too much sometimes. And you?”  
“Reading and reading and more reading.”  
Both laughed.  
“I haven't actually done a lot in the past few months. I should find myself a new hobby, I think. Maybe take up knitting or something,” she confessed. It actually wasn't a bad idea, finding a new thing for herself, “I must sound really boring right now.”  
“No, actually, I find you more interesting than ever,” John confessed.  
“Why?”  
“Because I think this is the first time you let your guard down. Every time I saw you there was this enormous wall around you that I just couldn't get through. Even this morning in my office it was there.”  
“I tried to jump you,” Clara countered with her eyebrows raised.  
John gave a slight shrug. “I could still feel it. Now it's like you've started to take it down, but it's still standing half way.”  
“I'm trying. I really am. Give me some time.”  
“You can have all the time in the world. I am a patient man.”

 

 **OOO**

 

When his car stopped in front of her apartment, Clara felt a little sad to say goodnight already. They had spent the entire time talking about small things, laughing together, eating together and she wished it could have gone on for a few more hours.  
“We should do that again. I had a really great time tonight and I hope you enjoyed it a little, too,” he told her after he had unbuckled his belt.  
“More than just a little,” Clara granted him a smile.  
“I'm glad.”  
“You know. . .,” she started but stopped immediately.  
“What?”  
“Well, we don't have to call it a night. . . yet,” Clara said, trying to sound matter-of-factly when she was actually really nervous, “There's a bottle of wine in my kitchen. You could come upstairs and we open it and talk some more.”  
“I kind of have to drive,” John explained.  
“Yeah, but what if you didn't?”  
“Are you sure?”  
“No,” Clara shook her head slightly.  
“Well, do you have a couch?” he asked, “Cause if I come upstairs and you change your mind I'd be happy with that.”  
Clara stared at him for a moment. She couldn't believe him. John really cared for her and he was doing everything he could to make her comfortable when he was probably going crazy inside. And she realized she had never been more attracted to him than in this exact moment. Without thinking about it any further she reached out to take his face in both her hands and kissed him. John didn't seem surprised. His reaction was immediate. He closed his arms around her, pulling her as close as the confined space of his car with all its edges and barriers would allow. His tongue slipped inside her mouth, playfully teasing her own and Clara felt that tingling again, only this time it didn't stop at just her spine. She wanted him, but she was also afraid of what would happen if she gave in to her desire.  
John pulled away from her as if sensing she was torn.  
“I'd love to talk to you some more, but I think I'll take the couch tonight,” he said, hands still wrapped tightly around her.  
“What are we waiting for then? Let's go.”


	5. Chapter 5

**OOO**

Clara dragged him down by the collar for a kiss as soon as the door had closed behind them, her hands sliding his coat off his shoulders. There was no way she would let him sleep on the couch tonight. Clara was sure now. She wanted him, and she wanted him now. He had one hand buried in her hair, using the other to press her hips against his own and Clara could feel John wanting her, too.  
Until he gently pulled away from her.  
“What?” Clara asked, suddenly afraid _he_ had changed his mind.  
“We shouldn't,” he whispered softly.  
“What are you talking about? I want you,” she said and tried to kiss him again, but John wouldn't let her.  
“You wanted me this morning, in my office, and that quickly faded away. I don't want you to regret anything. Not again.”  
“I won't,” Clara said, slightly maddened, “And I know you want me.”  
She slid her hand down but was stopped by him right before she had reached his belt.  
“That's not the point. I _always_ want you. But we agreed on wine and talking and that's what we'll do,” John said and lifted Clara's hand up to his lips.  
She groaned. “ _Fine_.”

Clara made a gesture for him to sit down on her couch while she went into the kitchen to re-emerge a few moments later with a bottle of wine and two glasses. As she passed her bookshelf Clara spotted the picture of herself and Danny. She thought about it for a moment and then turned it around.  
“Okay, here we are. Wine, glasses, you pick a topic,” Clara said as she let herself fall down next to him.  
John pointed at another framed picture that adorned her living room wall. It was a photograph of her former English class and every kid had signed its name underneath the picture. Everyone had written some nice, kind words of goodbye. All except this girl Courtney Woods, who had only written “ _won't miss ya_ ”.  
“That's my former students,” Clara explained, a little surprised he hadn't spotted it the first time he had been to her place.  
“You used to be a teacher?” John asked in surprise.  
“Yes.”  
“Then how come you're back at university?”  
“I, uhm, I didn't feel like I was up to the job. It's a bit overwhelming sometimes,” Clara lied. This was the perfect timing to tell him about what had really happened, tell him about Danny. He would understand. He would know why she had been hesitant and indecisive, why she found it hard to commit. And then he'd be understanding and kind and nice and Clara would start hating him for it, she would hate the looks he gave her, the words of kindness and it would ruin everything.  
Instead she wrapped her arm around him and rested her head on his chest.  
“And you?” Clara asked, “Have you always been teaching at university?”  
“That's a long story. Sure you want to hear that now?”  
“Yes,” Clara replied with a smile and closed her eyes to listen to him.

 

 **OOO**

 

Clara woke up when something tickled her ear. Still very sleepy she tried to stretch her body only to realize that she was being held tightly. John had his arms wrapped around her, his chest still pressed against her back and Clara realized that they must have fallen asleep like that on the couch the night before. She could tell that John had also woken up as his face was nestled somewhere against her hair and he was very sloppily kissing her neck.  
“Good morning,” she whispered softly, half of what she said mingling with moans at the sensation of his lips touching her skin. He had found her favourite spot yet again and was sucking it lightly.  
This was by far the nicest way she had been woken up in a very, very long time. Next to a wonderful man who loved her and who held her. Even, or especially in her sleepy state she wanted him. The morning had always been her time. Clara made an attempt to turn around and look at him, kiss him back but John held her firmly, using his hand to push her hips against his crotch.  
“Good morning,” he replied throatily and with a hint of cheekiness right as she noticed his erection.  
Clara suddenly felt wide awake, the thought of him so close to her and ready excited her immensely. John groaned slightly when she started grinding her hips against him. His hand wandered down her leg and back up under her dress, his short nails teasing her skin just enough to make her shiver.  
“Clara, what are we doing?” John asked desperately as if still trying to control himself, his hand seeking out the front of her knickers and rubbing against the fabric, “I wanted to wait until you were ready.”  
“Oh, I'm ready,” Clara breathed.  
It seemed as if he had only waited for her to say it. In one swift movement John had turned Clara on her back and positioned himself on top of her, the bulge in his trousers now pressing deliciously against her own crotch. He looked at her for a moment before bending down to kiss her lips passionately, longingly, his tongue sweeping over her own. Clara moaned into his mouth, already crazy with lust. She had waited through an entire evening and now in the morning it seemed to have grown worse. She rolled her eyes as he took his sweet time caressing her neck with his lips.  
“Oh, for God's sake, undress me already,” she demanded impatiently.  
“Hey,” John looked up until his eyes met hers, “Keep being bossy and I'll go extra slow.”  
“Sorry,” Clara mumbled quickly and reached for his collar. She dragged him closer, back to her mouth and started unbuttoning his shirt. Finally John reached for the hem of her dress and pulled it upwards over her head and Clara felt free without it as his naked torso touched her own. He obviously loved the way she dug her nails into the skin of his back and Clara would have done anything to bring his body closer to her own, to feel the heat of him directly on her own skin.  
John unhooked her bra and carefully freed her of it, the palm of his hand gently stroking her breasts. Clara watched his mesmerized gaze but her own arousal was starting to become too much to bear.  
“Do something, please,” she begged, grabbing his cock through the fabric of his trousers. It was hard and hot and she wanted him inside her _now_.  
John reached for her face and pulled her closer for another kiss.  
“Patience, love,” he quickly glanced down at her hand that was teasing his erection even more, “It's not just gonna go away.”  
John moved down, removing her knickers and positioned himself between her legs, his hands softly resting on the side of her hips. Clara groaned involuntarily as his wet, hot tongue slipped between her folds, causing her own body to move against him instantly. He moved his tongue skilfully, yet agonizingly slow. She reached for his hair, burying her hands in it, trying to direct a rhythm, make him go faster but he stuck to his own pace, driving Clara insane with desire.  
“Please,” she begged, her breath coming out short and ragged as she felt her orgasm slowly build up. Just a little more, just as little faster.  
“Please,” Clara moaned again and this time he seemed to have heard her, his tongue dipping inside of her. She threw her head back into the pillows and laughed as the waves of release washed over her body, laughed at the sweetness of it.  
John had stopped and was slowly making his way back up to her, pressing another kiss to her mouth and stealing the little air she had.  
“Is something funny?” he asked carefully, appearing a tiny bit insecure.  
“No,” she replied, panting. Clara was still smiling, “You're amazing.”  
John suddenly sat up and Clara was already worried he might get dressed and leave but to her relief he instead started stripping out of his pants and underwear. Her gaze dropped to the erection between his thighs. He reached inside the pocket of his trousers and found a condom.  
“Here, let me,” Clara took it from him. She sat down next to him and nervously started to open the wrapping.  
“Are you okay?” John asked, reaching out to steady her hand, “Do you want to stop? It's okay if you do. There's no point in rushing things.”  
Clara looked at him, smiling. She hadn't been so sure of anything for a long while.  
“I want you,” she reassured him, pushing the condom down on his erection.  
One one movement she swing herself into his lap and pushed his head against the backrest of the couch with a kiss to his lips.  
“And I'm sure,” Clara added just before she lowered herself on top of, taking in the whole length of him, unable to stop herself from gasping when he was finally inside of her.  
She heard John groaning beneath her when she started riding him, but it wasn't enough for her. She wanted to hear him call out her name.  
His hands slid around her waist, trying to hold her steady, yet Clara ignored him. This was her time. She decided now how fast this was going to be.  
“Not so fast, control freak,” John uttered, followed by a series of moans.  
“Not sorry,” Clara replied breathlessly and with a smirk, letting him in deeper with ever thrust as she continued to push down on top of him.  
His hands reached for her upper back and shoulders as if desperately trying to find somewhere to hold on to when she pushed him over the edge and he came as she had wanted him to come, with her name on his lip, the guttural sound of his voice and the last thrust almost taking her with him.  
John pulled her down, gently sucking at her lip.  
“See, that's what you get for rushing,” he reminded her with a malicious grin as if he knew she had just been about to come for him a second time.  
Not that Clara really minded that much. She felt wonderfully spent and relieved as she let herself sink into the sofa cushions next to him but a gaze at the clock told her she wasn't going to feel like that for very much longer. University classes were about to start soon and it would look quite odd if she and the professor were both late for class.  
“We should do that again very, very soon,” she heard John whisper right before he went to kiss her hair.  
She turned around to look at him. “How soon were you thinking?”  
John gave a slight shrug. “Tonight? My place?”  
“Sounds lovely,” Clara agreed with a smile and started to collect her clothes, “I'm heading for the shower. My _rather big_ shower. The shower that's big enough for _two_.”  
“Say no more,” John jumped up and wrapped his arms around her, his naked body pressed against hers when he kissed her.  
“No, no, no, none of that,” Clara reminded him and gently pushed him away, “We're going to be late for class.”  
“You'll be excused,” he replied, his voice barely a whispers as his lips brushed against her ear.  
“No, we're not going to be late because we'll take a quick shower and I'll make us some breakfast and then we'll be right on time.”  
John groaned. “Yes, boss.”  
Clara gave him a judging look to determined if he had really given up or if he was going to try and seduce her in the shower again anyway.  
“Alright,” she replied.

 

 **OOO**

 

“Stop it,” Clara giggled as he nibbled her earlobe from behind, “I'm trying to make breakfast.”  
“And I'm trying to get you to stop making breakfast,” John replied, laughing and taking the spatula from her hands.  
“Oh, burnt French toast, is that what you want?”  
“Not at all,” John raised his hands and took a step back, “That would be a waste.”  
“Then back off,” Clara demanded, stealing the spatula back from him, “It'll be done in a few minutes.”  
John did what she had asked of him and leaned against the frame of the kitchen door, watching her closely.  
“Do you have plans for the weekend?” he suddenly asked.  
“Not yet,” she replied, “Why are you asking?”  
“Well,” John started, trying to sound very matter-of-factly, “You know I had planned to go fishing at the Welsh coast. You could come with me.”  
“I'm not really into fishing, sorry,” Clara said and turned her attention back to the oven. She knew it wouldn't be about fishing if they went away together, but it felt a little rushed. She had only just decided to give him a chance and spending a whole weekend together wasn't really what she had planned for this point of their relationship.  
“I don't have to go fishing,” John explained, “We could just enjoy the landscape, take a long walk on the beach, take the boat for a little spin, have tea in front of the fireplace. Or make love in front of it, whatever you like.”  
It was really mean of him, making it sound like heaven. A part of her really wanted to go, but another part was still hesitant.  
“I'm moving to fast, am I not?” John raised an eyebrow.  
“I don't know,” Clara said honestly, “Can I think about it?”  
“Sure, I'm leaving Friday after class. You can tell me then if I'll be in the company or a beautiful woman or a fishing pole.”  
Clara let out a small laugh. “Okay.”


	6. Chapter 6

**OOO**

 

Clara was determined to give John a chance and had decided to go away with him over the weekend despite the nagging feeling that they were moving too fast. She really liked him and she was even starting to fall in love but the butterflies Clara felt in her stomach when he touched her made her sick. If she was perfectly honest with herself she had to admit that she was scared of committing to him.  
“You won't regret it, it's wonderful out here,” John said when the car stopped in front of the small house.  
“Yeah, it's also. . . dark,” Clara commented carefully.  
“You can appreciate the landscape tomorrow,” he promised her, chuckling, and pressed a kiss to her cheek, “Now, come on.”  
John left the car and retrieved the bags from the trunk, refusing to let Clara carry her own. It was cold inside the small house and she was sure it wouldn't heat up very quickly so she decided to keep her coat on for the time being. Getting a cold was the last thing she needed right now.  
“I'm sorry, my friend keeps the heating low when no one's around. I'll turn it up and light a fire. Do you want to make us some tea?”  
Clara nodded and trudged into the corner that was used as a kitchen. The house wasn't big, just a single room used as living room and kitchen, a bathroom and bedroom. She checked a couple of cupboards before she found the teabags and started boiling some water. When she turned around after a few minutes, holding a cup of tea in each hand, she found John standing in the doorway, watching her.  
“When are you going to lighten up?” he asked, taking one of the mugs from her.  
“I don't know what you mean,” Clara replied, walking past him to where he had spread a few blankets in front of the small, flickering fire. She quietly sat down.

Clara didn't react when he approached and let himself sink unto the soft blankets next to her. John took one of them and laid it around her shoulders.  
“Thanks,” Clara said, “I'll probably lighten up once this place gets a little warmer.”  
“I hope so, I've got a few things planned for tomorrow.”  
They sat in silence for a moment, watching the flames dance around the fireplace. Clara took a sip from her tea that was still too hot and set the mug aside. She scooted over, closer to John and rested her head on his shoulder.  
“Thank you for bringing me here. I'm sure it's going to be a lovely weekend,” she said softly and nuzzled against the fabric of his jumper.  
He wrapped his arm around her, pulling her closer and kissed her hair.  
“When are you doing to tell me what happened with your last boyfriend?” he asked out of the blue and Clara was sure he could feel her stiffen at the mention of him. She tried to relax in his embrace but didn't quite manage.  
“I don't. . .”  
“You don't wanna talk about it,” he interrupted her.  
“Yes.”  
“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be nosy, I just get the feeling that it would help me understand you. I mean, if it ended badly or. . .”  
“Please,” Clara begged quietly, hoping he would stop.  
“If you still love him. . .”  
“Shut up,” she suddenly found herself yelling. Clara wrestled free of his embrace to look at him, “Please, just shut up. I don't want to talk about him.”  
“Clara, I care about you, nothing could change that. You can tell me anything.”  
“I know,” she whispered, “But I really can't talk about it now. I think I'm going to take a bath.”

The hot water made her feel better and yet it couldn't wash away the feeling that she had overreacted. Why was she still keeping it from John? She was pretty sure that absolutely nothing would change between the two of them. John was considerate and sweet and he would understand why she needed to take things slow and he would give her all the time in the world. But Danny was back in her head. Clara thought she had been ready to move on without feeling guilty but it turned out she had been wrong. She had really loved Danny. Twelve months should be too soon to fall for another man. And what if she really let herself fall for John and lost him, too? Sometimes the risk seemed just too big. 

Then there was a knock on the door. Clara sighed.  
“Come in.”  
But instead of entering the bathroom John slid his hand through the crack, waving a white handkerchief.  
“I take it you are coming in peace?” Clara asked, suppressing a chuckle. He was so silly sometimes.  
“I'm sorry, I really am,” John apologized as he walked through the door and closed it behind him. He walked over to the bathtub and sat down on the rim, “I won't ever ask again. I promise.”  
“Okay,” Clara nodded, smiling lightly, “I will tell you some day, but not now.”  
“So, are we good? I hate it when you're mad at me.”  
Clara frowned a little and then surprised him by splashing water in his face.  
“Hey,” he yelled, instantly defending himself by splashing water back at her. It wasn't the best of counter attacks as she was already wet, but it still had the desired effect. Clara started laughing.  
“Now we're good,” she announced, smiling. John reached for her face and gently pulled it closer. His lips touched her own carefully as if he wasn't sure she wanted to kiss him now. Clara opened her mouth and let her tongue sweep playfully over his, her hand leaving the warm water to find some part of his body to hold on to. The he suddenly pulled away from her, a smirk on his face.  
“I am really trying not to be turned on by the fact that you're completely naked and wet in front of me.”  
“Well, the tub is big enough for two,” Clara suggested and only a few seconds later he was on top of her, still fully clothed, kissing her.  
“You're crazy,” she said, laughing at the silliness of the situation and how he had managed to completely lighten up her mood in a matter of minutes.  
“Only crazy about you,” he replied.

 

**OOO**

 

John really hadn't lied about his plans for the weekend. He woke her up a little later than he had probably intended because they had spent most of the night making love in front of the fireplace, something Clara had originally considered too romantic for her taste. Breakfast was ready when she woke up and the whole room smelled of delicious, fresh coffee.  
“How are you feeling?” he asked when they had settled at the small table.  
“Perfect, and you?” Clara replied happily and meant it.  
“Well, I'm afraid I'm a little too old for experiments like sleeping on the floor.”  
“Aw, poor you. We should take a walk after breakfast, it'll help your back,” Clara suggested.  
“No, walk is number three on the list.”  
“What are number one and two?”  
“One is breakfast, two is a tour with the boat. I brought a special jacket for you, just in case yours isn't water and wind resistant.”  
Clara smiled. “Did anyone ever tell you that you are the most considerate man on the planet?”  
“Only the planet? How man considerate aliens do you know?” John raised an eyebrow.  
“Shut up, silly man,” she said, laughing. 

John took her out on the boat and Clara was thankful for the warm and comfy jacket he had brought for her, and also because the waves weren't too high. She hadn't really been out on the ocean before and she had been afraid she might get sick, but the view was perfect. They drove around the coast and Clara whipped out her phone to take pictures of the landscape. Then she turned the camera on John.  
“Smile!” she said and took a picture. When she looked at it she broke out into laughter, “When I said smile I meant for you to smile, not close your eyes and look goofy.”  
“Well, you could've given me a warning.”  
“Okay, let's try again,” Clara said and moved to the back of the boat where he was holding the tiller.  
She turned on the front camera and leaned closer to him.  
“Now, smile,” she reminded John and took the picture. It actually turned out to look sweet.  
“Oh, you have to send it to me later,” he said and kissed her softly.

 

The walk was just as idyllic as the boat ride and although the jacket was doing a good job at keeping Clara warm her legs felt frozen.  
“So, what else is on the list for today after this?” she asked after a while.  
John looked down at her in surprise. “You're cold.”  
“I didn't say that,” Clara argued, “Okay, I could really do with some warming up.”  
“Well, I have an idea about that,” he grabbed her from behind and started placing kisses on her cheek, causing Clara to giggle again.  
“Okay, okay, I get your idea, you madman,” she laughed and turned around in his embrace, now staring directly into his eyes, “Let's go back.”

As soon as the door had closed behind them his hand has swiftly opened the zip of Clara's jacket and he was kissing her longingly, pushing her back against the door with the weight of his body.  
“Admit it,” she said breathlessly, “You only brought me here because it's cold and the only way to warm up is through body heat.”  
“Didn't even cross my mind,” John smirked at her, throwing his own jacket aside before cupping her face in both his hands. Clara caught him gazing at her dreamily.  
“I love you, Clara,” he said sincerely and his words started to tear a hole in her stomach. John bent down to kiss her again, but Clara gently pushed him away. He saw the confused look in his eyes and she knew what was about to happen. This was the moment. The moment she had no choice but to tell him and yet she wished there was a way out.  
“Are you alright? Did I do something wrong?” John asked immediately.  
Clara shook her head slightly. She needed some distance, she wouldn't have minded a country being between them right now, but there was only the other end of the room to flee to.  
“It's too fast. Everything is just happening too fast,” Clara said softly, “I can't do it.”  
The confusion in him only seemed to grow.  
“What? Because I said that I love you? Clara, it's okay. I didn't mean to pressure you. You don't have to say it back right now.”  
“No, you don't understand. I can't ever say it back to you,” she said desperately. Clara was starting to feel the tears coming. There was no way back now. She had to tell him about Danny, about the day he died. No matter how much it hurt. Otherwise he would never understand. John was so kind and sweet and Clara had no intention of hurting him any further, yet it was exactly what she was doing.  
“Clara, why are you making such a big deal out of this?” John asked and she could hear he was trying very hard to not sound angry, “I know that you have feelings for me. I also know that something is bothering you and I have promised not to ask about it anymore, but I don't understand it, Clara. What are you trying to tell me? That you want to break up? That you like me but you will never love me? What is it?”  
She was crying now. She had tried not to but it hadn't worked. She saw John approaching her, probably in an attempt to comfort her but she had to stop him.  
“Because my boyfriend died,” Clara found herself yelling.  
He stopped dead in his tracks, the mask of confusion and anger dropping instantly.  
“He died and the last thing I said to him was that he was the last person who would ever hear me say 'I love you'. I don't even know if he heard it but I promised him and I will never break that promise.”  
“Clara,” John tried to say but she interrupted him immediately.  
“No, don't say it. Whatever you're feeling right now, just keep it to yourself,” Clara said angrily and wiped away her tears, “It's probably best if we do break up. You deserve better.”  
“No, _you_ deserve better,” he said determinedly, quickly before she had the chance to interrupt him again.  
“Why? When Danny died, he took my whole life with him. My love, my job, everything. Now I'm just empty. I have nothing to give.”  
As she spoke John stepped closer and only stopped right in front of her. Clara felt his hand stroking her hair gently before he pulled her to his chest and hugged her tightly. She couldn't help but start sobbing again.  
“Come here,” John said softly and led her to the sofa. They both sat down and Clara kept her face buried in his chest and cried until there were no more tears left in her.  
He made no other attempt to talk to her for quite some time, instead he just held her, stroking her hair and allowing her to let it all out. 

At some point Clara must have fallen asleep because she woke up in his embrace. His caresses had stopped, but John was still holding her, watching over her.  
“Hey,” he whispered as soon as she stirred.  
“Hey,” Clara replied weakly. She felt so tired after all the crying.  
“Clara,” he began carefully, “What you said, it's not true. You deserve to be happy. No man that has ever loved you would want to see you unhappy. Trust me, I know what I'm talking about.”  
“How?” she asked without looking up.  
“I've had my share of losses, more than I would've liked. None of them were worth throwing your life away for. I know it's not easy or dealt with in a few weeks, I know the guilt can be overwhelming sometimes. But eventually you'll make it and I'd like to be there for you all the way. That is, if you want me there.”  
Clara reached out and took his hand in hers, admiring it for a while before she responded.  
“I don't know,” she sighed, “I keep changing my mind. I really enjoy being with you, but sometimes I just feel like I'm not really me, like this isn't really my life and when everything get so surreal the thought of Danny keeps coming back to me and I can't handle it. I just feel lost.”  
“Mh, have you ever considered that the feeling of being lost might have nothing to do with you and me?” John asked. “Maybe you really aren't living your life.”  
“I want to go home,” Clara admitted sadly.  
“That's okay,” John sighed, “I'll pack our things.”

 

**OOO 2 DAYS LATER OOO**

 

When the door bell rang Clara had already prepared everything. She was wearing a nice but casual dress, the table was set and dinner would be done in 20 minutes. She rushed to the door and opened it with a smile, greeting a rather confused John Smith.  
“Hey, come on in,” she said happily.  
John eyed her cautiously and stepped inside, checking her place for clues why she had invited him over.  
“I missed you in class today,” John stated, but it sounded more like a question.  
“Yeah, I made a decision,” Clara said nervously and gestured towards a chair, “Do you want to sit?”  
“Okay,” John replied, still looking suspicious, but he sat down eventually.  
Clara took a deep breath.  
“I've been thinking about what you said. And I think you were right. This thing I'm doing now isn't me, so I thought about it all day yesterday and did some research. I found a school about 20 minutes from here and they were looking for an English teacher. So instead of coming to class today I went there. Turns out one of their teachers fell ill very unexpectedly and they needed someone to fill in immediately.”  
John raised an eyebrow. “Past tense meaning?”  
“I said yes. I'm starting next week. I know it's a big step and it might be a mistake and I might find that I still can't do my old job again, but I want to at least try. I've done university before and I wasn't really keen on doing it again in the first place but there didn't seem to be another option at that time. Besides, dating my professor is kind of weird.”  
Clara stopped, waiting for John's reaction. She spotted a flicker of hope in his eyes but he didn't say a word, waiting for her to finish.  
“I want to give us a chance, a proper one. I might not be ready to say the words to you any time soon and I might not be easy to handle all the time but I like you too much to miss out on this one. I can't promise you anything, I can't promise that it will all work out but I know for sure that I don't want to lose you. So what do you say?” Clara asked nervously.  
“Wow,” John said, “You really spent a day thinking about this, haven't you? If there's a pro and con list, I'd like to have a look at it.”  
“Don't make fun of me. What do you think?” she asked impatiently.  
John rose from his chair again and a smile appeared on his face. He stepped closer and lifted his hands to her cheeks.  
“I think it will all work out, eventually,” he said softly and placed a kiss in her lips, “And I'm very glad. Now, _is_ there a pro and con list?”  
“Maybe,” Clara replied wish a sheepish smile.  
“And what does it say about me on the pro side?”  
“Oh, you would like to know, wouldn't you?”  
The kitchen alarm beeped, telling Clara that the food was now ready.  
“Maybe I'll tell you after dinner. Maybe,” she giggled and walked towards the kitchen, happy and already knowing that she had made the right decision. John was usually right. It would all work out eventually.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading this story, for your kudos and for the comments!


End file.
